


Apocalypse Now(ish)

by theleafpile



Category: Damien (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Beta version, F/M, Gen, Helps to have seen damien but isnt necessary, Identity Reveal, Lucifer has Wings, Lucifers wings are bad news, Post-Season/Series 02, Reveal, damien is the antichrist, post 2x18 lucifer, post damien finale, timeline fudging for artistic purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleafpile/pseuds/theleafpile
Summary: The Antichrist seeks out the Devil to see if he can help prevent the apocalypse, but Lucifer Morningstar is not at all what Damien expected.





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3,000 miles separate the power of Heaven and the pull of Hell.

_Damien had the taste of someone else's blood in his mouth._

_He imagined it would become a common enough occurrence._

 

Lucifer's breath was hot, ragged against his chapped lips, caked and cracked like the Earth beneath his bare, shuffling feet. All his thoughts were blissfully quiet, unable to do much but drift and listen to the scraping of wings, heavy, behind him. They snagged on a bramble and he stopped, blindly reaching a hand behind him to dislodge it. He collapsed.

 

_Cemeteries are silent places, their peacefulness broken only during the day - by twittering birds, the oscillating stream of far-off traffic, the babbling brook of a priest's placating words._

_Sometimes, even the tears are silent._

_Damien's were. They mixed with the fresh splatter of blood and brain matter on his face, dripping from his chin to the hallowed Earth at his feet._

 

Maze found him, of course. She had to be goaded into it by Chloe, for she was unwilling to leave Linda's side as she recovered in the hospital. Linda assured that she would ask the nurses to save a few pudding cups for her, and patted her arm lightly with a gauze-covered hand.

"He does this," she argued. "The going gets emotional and he gets going."

Chloe bit her lip, standing in the hospital parking lot the next morning. Unknowningly, she stood in the same spot Lucifer had when he left her the phone message she had just played for her friend. 

"But I'll find him," Maze sighed. "He's gonna wish I didn't. But I will."

"Thank you, Maze."

 

_Damien shouted to the black and starless sky in words he had never said before, in a language he had never heard before. His soul. His soul for her life, the woman who lay, crumpled, at his feet, half her skull blown away by a bullet meant for him._

_He didn't know who accepted his offer, but someone listened. Simone gasped, filling her death-depleted lungs with the foggy air of night._

 

"You exist to protect me. Whether you want to, or not." 

Lucifer's words rung in her ears as Maze stomped across the desert landscape. She'd tracked the tenuous thread between them to this godforsaken place. 

She couldn't help but crack a smile at how humans described such empty spaces. She knew what the term truly meant, and Hell looked nothing like sunny California. 

The smile faded at the sight of her former Master - and the magnificent wings tangled at his back. She rushed over, lifting his head off the ground, tugging the wing free. He groaned, and she threw his arm over her shoulder, dragging him to his feet.

"Mazikeen," he mumbled as she urged one foot in front of the other. "'em off."

She shook her head, focusing on anything else besides the desperation in his voice. 

"Off," he said, more clearly, though far from lucid.

"Not again," she stated, matter-of-factly enough that she'd hoped he drop the subject.

He paused, still leaning on her heavily. She pulled him forward, keeping them walking toward her car, which looked now to be an impossible distance away. 

"You obey me," he slurred, and she laughed, adjusting him more upright. 

"In your dreams."

 

_Damien turned, gazing at the crowd that had gathered at his rebirth, his baptism. They were all kneeling. Hundreds of them. Silent. He lifted Simone to her feet, eyes stuck on the cop who had just killed her, the cop who had insisted on investigating the freak accidents surrounding Damien, the cop who had fallen to his knees, having witnessed a miracle._

_"My parents tried to raise me Catholic. Didn't take." The detective heard his own words echoing in his head, trying to reconcile what he had just seen with what he had tried to believe, all those years ago._

_Damien stared._

_The cop lifted the gun he had dropped to the ground beside him, only moments before._

_Damien ignored Simone's voice in his ear. "This isn't you," she pleaded._

_The cop lifted the gun, sticking the barrel beneath his chin._

_A gasp traveled the crowd, thick with anticipation._

_The cop swallowed the bile in his mouth. It tasted of fear._

_Damien looked to Simone, clinging desperately to his shirt, still wet with her blood._

_The cop pulled the trigger._

_"You don't know me, at all," he said._


	2. Coping Mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When coping looks like burning, only ashes remain.

Lux was raging. Manic. Heaving, in its desperation and desire, a living beast in sapphire and ochre hues, the alcohol flowing like blood, breathing ecstasy, sweating cocaine.

The piano, the beast's heart, lay broken and splintered, pushed to the side.

Smoke drifted to the ceiling, and bodies - just bodies, for whatever souls remained were muted in the murmuring chaos of night - rolled and swayed, to the music or otherwise.

Lucifer lay on the bar, enraptured by the blinking lights on the ceiling, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as he raised a hand upward, laughing. 

A brush of midnight-dark hair. Desire-blackened eyes. A twilight blue dress. The woman lifted herself to the bar, crawling, licking her ample lips, running her hands up his thighs.

He smiled, taking a drag, never moving his eyes, never blinking.

 

Chloe gave Lucifer the weekend.

He wasn't her responsibility, and Maze had filled her in on the parts she could know, though not what she desperately needed to know, to understand.

Chloe gave him the weekend to recover, under the impression that he needed time to heal.

(No time would be enough.)

She inhaled deeply as the doors opened to his penthouse, steeling herself against whatever sight was about to meet her.

Lucifer brushed past, untucking the collar of his suit jacket as he stepped into the elevator, freshly showered, freshly shaved.

"Lucifer?" she asked, her voice much smaller than she would've liked.

A bright flash of white. His uncaring smile struck her more like a corner animal, baring its teeth.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as he pushed the button, moving to fiddle with his cuffs.

"Want to find out?" he asked, tilting his head, predatory and curious.

There was a darkness, there, she had never seen before. The lights dimmed behind him, afraid to shine too brightly in his presence.

She shook her head as the elevator doors closed.

 

_Damien returned to his industrial apartment, surrounded by images of war - images he'd taken, blissfully unaware that his presence was often what pushed conflicts over the edge, pushed people into committing horrendous acts of evil._

_All he knew was that he wanted to be there, wanted to be in the thick of it, untouchable in the chaos that reigned around him._

_Had he known why... well. He didn't think it would have stopped him from pursuing it, anyway._

_Knowledge wasn't power. Power was power. And he had it. The power of Hell, raging inside him._

_He peeled off his clothes, letting them slap on the floor like a wet bag of meat. They smeared the bathroom linoleum with blood and grave dirt._

_He stepped into the shower, the water unable to wash away the bags under his eyes, the gaunt hollowness of his face. He scrubbed under his fingernails, a blackness circling the drain at his feet._

_Damien shut his eyes, feeling the darkness swirling inside him, black and blood-red. He rolled his neck, willing it away, trying to push it down. It spread through his body, up his neck, down to his fingertips._

_The tiles did not survive the thrashing that followed._

 

Lucifer didn't return home for six days. It wasn't biblical, nor intentional - _on the Seventh Day God rested_ \- no. He lost track of time. 

Which was easy, when time meant nearly nothing.

Maze found him, slumped against a dumpster in an alleyway off Sunset, asleep. His hair was curled and ragged, his suit torn at the hems.

She would have guessed he'd been in a fight, but the alcohol on his breath suggested he did this to himself.

"Up," she demanded, pushing at a leg with a booted foot.

He groaned, raising a hand to his rub at his eyes.

"Up," she repeated. "How long are you going to be like this?" 

He blinked open his eyes, half a smile on his unshaven face. "Forever," he slurred.

She snapped him upright, shoving him against the brick and into a shard of southern California noontime light. His wings burst out instinctively, trapping her and blocking the light, and he relaxed under her grasp.

She swatted at the great, white light until they retracted. "When were you going to tell me you've decided to freak out?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, then pushed her away, stumbling to the dumpster and folding in half to vomit.

She rolled her eyes, waiting until he started dry heaving, then dragged him away.

 

_Damien trashed his apartment. All his cameras, his equipment, smashed. The pictures, his life's work, he bathed in fire in the center of the room, uncaring if the flames caught elsewhere. He told himself, while in the field, that it wasn't about the rush. It wasn't about the adrenaline. The fear. (Not his.) It was about knowledge, he told friends, bosses. About getting the story out there. People always related better to pictures than words, he explained. It was important to show what the world was really like._

_Something inside him always agreed. It was about showing humanity. In all its darkness. In all its horror._

_He loved it, and hated that he loved it._

_A car waited for him outside, sleek and shining with droplets of rain. He got in. Ann was waiting. She placed a warm, gentle hand atop his, smiling._

_"Are you ready, now?" she asked, in the voice that could make death threats sound like mother's love._

_He looked at her hand, and she retracted it. He offered her no other answer._

 

Lucifer staggered into the penthouse, pushed inside by Maze. He ventured toward the balcony, and she could see the wheels turning in his mind. She rushed ahead to shut the doors, and he stumbled into the glass, confused.

"Pull yourself together," she admonished, beckoning him up the stairs. He grinned, following her eagerly into the bedroom, and huffing when she turned him toward the bathroom, instead. "You're the Lord of Hell, Lucifer. I'm not here to Devil-sit you."

"Lord of Hell, indeed!" he said, smirking as he flipped around in her grasp, pinning her to the wall. He was stronger than her, more so now with the wings, and she struggled against him. 

"Get off me," she said. He ignored her, turning his face down into her neck, inhaling her scent. The primal part of her responded to his advances, his hard body against hers, but the Maze that had lived and grown and adapted to life on Earth rang out a resounding, "No."

She stuck him with a punch in under his ribs and he released her, laughing, turning into the bathroom. 

"I'm trying to help you," she called out.

"Bugger off," he yelled back.

 

_Damien allowed himself to be put up at one of Armitage Global's corporate apartments, overlooking the sunshine-and-shadow riddled lower Manhattan._

_More than anything, he felt drained. Beyond exhausted. Death would be a gift. Just not one he was able to receive._

_That needle in his arm, the morphine overdose he'd injected into his vein, the attempted carbon monoxide and alcohol poisoning - none of it worked. Whatever clung inside him refused to let him die._

_He had to find a way to live with it._


	3. Power(less)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first step to recovery is admitting powerlessness.

Lucifer sobered. 

Eventually.

Enough.

Maze returned. She was his oldest friend, and he was hers. He was the only one who accepted her as she truly was. He loved her. She loved him.

Their love often looked like immolation, but it was love, nonetheless.

Blood and feathers lay scattered on the black marble. She stepped further inside, shards of broken glass crunching under her feet, to find Lucifer crumbled face down on the bed, unconscious. Blood caked in streams on his back. 

She called Chloe.

 

_Damien no longer followed time. The faceless blurs that passed held no meaning to him as human beings, and he couldn't bring himself to care. Corporate lackeys of Armitage Global were double-exposures of suits and leather shoes, manila folders and papers and tablets, of murmured words like "plans," "mergers," and "domination."_

_They were anonymous, like he wished to be. A face in the crowd. A face that made up a face in the crowd._

_He sat, a peon at his side, at a conference table. She passed a stack of papers under his hands, and a name popped up. It was unseen, hidden in the center of the stack, but he could feel it, feel the words on his fingertips as easily as though they were embossed._

_He shuffled through the pages, landing on a memo, the name halfway down the page._

_"He's nobody, sir," the blur told him. "Not worth checking out, in my opinion. This guy's only been active for a couple years. And besides," she added, "The Devil wouldn't make himself so known. I don't think."_

_Damien determined otherwise._

_"Today," he told her._

_"I'll arrange it."_

 

Chloe didn't want to come, to say the least.

"It's over, Maze. Whatever there was, whatever he promised... I saw," she said, pausing to gaze at her daughter, watching the tail end of a movie from the couch. "I saw something there I've never seen before. Something dark. To be honest, it was frightening. I don't want to see him if he's still like that."

"He is the Devil," Maze said, and Chloe rolled her eyes.

"I know you're on that crazy train, too, Maze, but -"

"Chloe," she interrupted. "Please."

Maze's shaky breath came over the phone, and Chloe sighed. 

"For you, Maze. I'll come over. For you."

Dead air answered her, and Chloe hung up on her end, calling Dan.

 

_Damien Thorn, in his perfectly morose and terrifying and very human life rarely had occasion to set foot in Los Angeles. He’s been there, of course, a byproduct of being a professional photographer, but he lived in New York and was raised along the east coast, and so had been bred to believe the west coast was gaudy, uncultured, and flashy. He stepped off the plane, carry-on in hand, and determined that the stories had been true._

_Mostly he was thankful he had managed not to cause any massacres along the way._

_He ignored the company car waiting for him and hailed a taxi instead, giving him the address to Lux. The afternoon sun glared, orange and flaming, against the streets and glass of the city, promising night._

_“Straight to the good stuff, yeah?” asked the taxi driver with a wink in the rearview mirror._

_“You know the place?”_

_“Lux? Sure. Fares in and out of there as much as any club. But the clientele –” he said, whistling, “good shit.”_

_“Know anything about the owner?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. The Devil, right?” he said, with a laugh. “Spooky. Guy’s got connections, though. Friend of a friend said he helped him out of a bind, and for nothin’ too – just an I.O.U.”_

_Damien relaxed into the seat, watching the city flicker away before him, dying candlelight in a big, empty universe. The further he got from New York, the better he felt._

_“You think he’s the Devil?” asked Damien._

_“Don’t know, man,” he said, shrugging. “Stranger things, right?”_

_Damien nodded, and they drove the rest of the way in silence._

 

Maze was waiting at the elevator, a bucket of ice water in hand, when Chloe arrived. She hadn’t bothered to clean the feathers, or the blood, or move Lucifer from his crouched, fetal position. Chloe slowly stepped into the room.

“This looks like a crime scene. Or some weird, feather-pillow kink gone wrong,” she said, her eyes drifting upwards to Lucifer’s bedroom. She tried to reconcile what she saw there, but couldn't. “Very wrong.”

Maze sniffed sharply, the ice jostling in the bucket as she held it up. “Ready?” 

Chloe nodded, unsure, and followed Maze up the stairs, staying off to the side. She could see, clearly, the rake marks, the deep, fresh wounds along his back. Dried blood caked over the divots of his scars, much smoother than she remembered. She swallowed against the ache in her throat. It may have well been a crime scene, except for Maze's strange, almost annoyed attitude about it all.

Maze considered the room, then directed her to take another step back, and Chloe obliged. Maze met her eyes with a question. Chloe nodded, giving her the go-ahead. 

“This isn't the way he wanted you to find out," Maze explained, the water sloshing. "And he's probably going to kill me for it."

She looked to the heap of a man, clenching her jaw.

"I'm not betraying him, you understand? I'm not."

Chloe wasn't sure what the hell was happening, but she tried to agree.

Maze continued. "If he’s gonna be like this,” she said, raising her voice at the end, “then to Hell with him,” she finished, chucking the water onto the figure on the bed.


	4. Kind Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some questions don't have answers.

Chloe didn’t blink and still missed the moment the great, white wings filled the room, whirling wildly as the Lucifer spun around. 

Maze ducked. 

Chloe did not.

She caught the end of a feather along her arm, drawing a clean, red, straight line across her bicep. 

A feral, inhuman growl emanated from the center of the room, directed toward the demon, who leaned forward in a ready stance.

Lucifer pulled himself forward, about to lunge.

He caught movement out the corner of his eye; a flash of a white shirt, a shine of blonde hair. The wings, outstretched and posturing, turned as he faced Chloe. 

She stood, motionless, until something in her brain caught up and she hissed, covering the wound on her arm, blood trailing over her fingers.

He didn't dare breathe, watching the blood fall in droplets to the floor. 

His hand slipped on the edge of the bed and he fell, the wings folding and disappearing from view. His eyes darted from Maze to Chloe as he rushed to his feet, slipping over the wet tile on his bare feet toward her.

He gripped Chloe's arm, his hand covering hers easily. She tried to tug herself away, but he held fast, hyper focused on the pulse racing beneath his fingers. His or her own, he couldn't tell.

He realized she was actively pulling away from him after too long. He let go, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Maze!" he bellowed, turning on his heel to face her. Chloe did not see the red in his eyes, only the snow-white flash of teeth when Maze bared hers, preparing for a fight.

"Stop," Chloe breathed, and Maze's eyes darted from Lucifer to her.

Chloe raised a shaking hand to Lucifer's back and he whirled around, gripping her wrist in instinct.

Something in his eyes finally snapped back into place, and he dropped her hand, taking a faltering step back.

"Why?" he asked them both, accusingly.

“Because you need to come back to reality,” said Maze, stepping forward. “This binge you’ve been on. It’s dangerous. And I can only protect you so much from yourself.”

He considered it, the anger building swiftly and easy back beneath his skin.

“Lucifer?” whispered Chloe. The sound rang in his head, the long-forgotten sound of prayer, and the angel inside the Devil finally pushed, struggling, to the surface.

The rage within him collapsed. He returned to Chloe, gingerly lifting a hand to cover hers once more, gently, an apology stuck in his throat. She nodded, looking to Maze, who turned and walked away.

Chloe allowed him to lead her to the bathroom, fumbling to get the never-opened first aid kit from beneath the sink she leaned against. 

He tried to keep as much distance from her as he could in the small space, slipping and pressing against the open door, his hands shaking. The first gauze he ripped open drifted to the floor. Swiftly he reached for another, too ashamed to meet her eyes.

Her fingers curled around his, stilling them.

She pulled him toward her and he collapsed against her, his head tucked into her neck. 

She closed her eyes and raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs, but her shaking only prompted more from him.

He began mumbling something against her skin in words she couldn’t understand, in a language she’d never heard before. Whatever he said calmed her, calmed them both, as though her soul were being bathed in a white, clearing light.

“Calm down,” Chloe said, shakily. She could feel Lucifer’s smile against her shoulder. 

“You calm down.”

“I was talking to me,” she answered. They both giggled, manic, releasing. He pulled away from her, running a hand over his face, then wiped away whatever got on her shoulder with a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry,” he said, and for the briefest of moments, there were no walls between them. She sniffled, picking up the gauze from the sink, surprised to see her wound already closed. She looked to him, and he shrugged. “Side effect.”

She tossed the gauze in the trash and picked up a washcloth, running it under water. She motioned for him to turn. He watched her in the mirror, concentrating as the blood hydrated and trailed down his back. She tried to wipe it away before it reached his trousers. 

She rung out the cloth, leaving blossoming red stains on the marble, like blooming flowers. 

“You don’t –” he began. She looked at him in the mirror, and he shut his mouth.

She studied his back, the smooth skin where there had been scars, a far-away look on her face.

He tried to smile. "I should probably just shower."

She lifted a finger, trailing it down the edge of where a scar used to be. He suppressed a shiver.

Her hand fell away.

"Detective?" he asked, turning to face her.

"What does this mean?" she whispered, unable to look him in eye.

He slumped against the door. "I've never been one to have answers."

She exhaled shakily. "That makes two of us, then."


	5. Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shifts in perspective; acceptance.

The bouncer at Lux took one look at Damien, with his broad chest, boyish blonde hair, strong jawline and bright, blue eyes and let him in the door without a cover charge. The club was nowhere near full-swing, but patrons were still there, mingling, their voices low in the timeless light.

He slid into a corner seat at the bar, offering a short smile and nod to a pretty thing that looked his way. 

Maze walked out the elevator, leaving Chloe and Lucifer to work out whatever they needed to in privacy, convinced the former ruler of Hell was no threat to her friend.

Something turned her attention toward the bar. A dark, pulsing power she hadn't felt since -

Damien accepted a drink from the bartender, asking him to start a tab.

"Gonna be a long night?" he asked, his eyes roaming over Damien's figure appreciatively.

Damien smirked into his glass. "Not if I get what I want."

"Isn't that how it always is?" joked the bartender, moving to attend to another.

Damien was surprised the club wasn't a packed raver, though he hadn't been sure what to expect. It was a classy, tasteful piano bar - with what appeared to be a brand new piano sitting in the center of the lower room - exuding a kind of joyful sexiness instead of a desperate, feeding need. 

He took another drink, his optimism fading. Something about the name he found stood out to him, and not just in a this-is-weird kind of way. It jumped for his attention. It wasn't something he wanted to ignore, but he couldn't help but feel: Satan wouldn't own a club in the City of Angels. Someone pretending to be him might, but the Devil was probably locked away, and that was probably a good thing.

 _Definitely_ a good thing, he reminded himself.

Damien sighed, rubbing his eyes. The power that coursed through his body was more intoxicating than any alcohol, draining his energy. It was easy to slip into and becoming more difficult to slip out of, and every day a little bit more of it was taking over, and every day a little bit more of him was fading away.

Whatever he wanted, whatever he was trying to do, he knew one thing for certain:

He was going to have to act fast.

A woman took the seat beside him. His senses perked at her presence, and a glance over her figure perked something else, too.

She leaned away slightly, resting an elbow on the counter, curiosity written plain on her face.

"Mazikeen," she said, searching his face for recognition. He could offer none.

"Damien."

"You're not from around here," she ventured.

"New York."

She smiled, reaching forward to take the glass from his hands. "Not what I meant," she said, lifting it to her lips. "Business, or pleasure?" she asked, at his silence.

"I don't know if it's either."

She set the glass down, pushing it toward him with a finger. "What are you looking for, then?"

He turned his body, opening his knees to encompass either side of her. She lifted an eyebrow, but did not move away. "I ran to the Devil," he quoted playfully. "Is he waiting?"

Her smile faded. He'd obviously hit a nerve, and wondered why. "Lucifer's currently occupied."

"Oh, you know him?"

"Former employer. Current pain in my ass."

"Explains the look on your face."

She glanced toward the elevator, then leaned closer, laying a hand on his forearm. "You staying anywhere?" 

"The Sofitel. Room 104."

She trailed a finger down his arm, the skin turning to goosebumps. "See you there in one hour." 

He watched her walk away, the darkness in him hungry to follow.

Maybe the Devil would be available tonight. He threw back the rest of his drink, left a bill on the counter, and entered the fading light outside.

 

Chloe insisted Lucifer shower, and he insisted she join him, and only one of them won _that_ debate. She waited, leaning on the balcony railing outside, overlooking the thriving metropolis where she grew up. 

It looked, more than ever, like a child's playthings scattered on the floor, or like a hive of short-lived insects, buzzing with meaningless activity.

Unplanned. Chaotic. Held together by the thinnest of threads, one natural disaster or financial collapse away from moving into history.

Chloe tried very hard not to look at the sky.

It would have served only to make her feel smaller. More insignificant. Like a flicker of light, gone with a breath.

She wasn't sure how long Lucifer took to make himself presentable. Perhaps she ought to pay more attention to sunsets.

He appeared at her side in a shirt the color of cold water. They watched the light die over the horizon, together and silent.

She patted his hand, forcing a small smile on her face.

His hand was colder than she'd ever felt from him.

He let her go without protest.

After darkness fell, he sat at the piano, unable to think of anything that felt right to play.

 

The heat from the shower fogged the glass enclosing them.

It started innocently enough - Damien invited her in, Maze kissed him, they fell to the bed, then the floor, and now the shower. In each lingering moment the darkness grew around them and within him, and his smile became bared teeth, his eyes changed from the color of sky to the color of ice, and his playful bites became deeper, needy, forceful.

Whatever he dished out, she could take, and begged for more.

"Reminds me of simpler times," she explained, throwing her head back against the glass with a smile. He held her hands together over her head in one of his own, the other roaming her soapy body. "You can't hurt me," she encouraged. "Show me."

He snarled. "You show me," the darkness demanded, and she obeyed.

Her glamour dropped away, revealing the face of the demon beneath. He released her hands, stunned. She returned the visage, using the opportunity to push him against the tile wall.

"I thought you were special," she purred, her hands roaming over his chest. "Don't do it again."

Damien, in the heat and steam of the shower, could no longer tell where he ended and the darkness began. He flipped them around, the tile cracking where he pushed her against it. He kissed her deeply, drawing blood from her bottom lip.

"Don't tell me what to do."


	6. Low Lays the Devil in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you've got to get lost, before you can be found

Damien almost forgot why he came. 

He and Maze certainly left a sight to behold for the maid service, and against her usual (not better, just usual) judgement, she wanted to stay. Wanted to show Damien around the city, show him a good time that didn't just involve sex with her. 

He let her bring him to the beach, to other clubs and raves, and somewhere in the music and darkness and bodies he lost himself in his rapture of her. As he tumbled deeper into the dark power, she recessed, eager for easier times, less complicated thoughts and relationships.

It was a match made in Hell.

She couldn't help but compare Damien to Lucifer, in the earlier days, when all they wanted out of their life on Earth was a bit of fun.

How different things were, now.

Bar fights broke out around him, and she reveled in the ass-kicking, in showing off. At least someone could appreciate her for her talents, and not just what she could do _for_ him. 

After two days out Maze relented in his request to see Lucifer. They returned to her apartment, early in the evening. As soon as she opened the door, Trixie burst out of the living room, running smack into the demon with enough force to knock the wind out of her. 

Damien stepped into the apartment behind her, and Trixie pulled away, eyeing the stranger warily. Maze patted her on the head - like a dog, Damien thought, with a smile - and called for her roommate.

Chloe appeared as Damien leaned against the kitchen counter, taking in the space and two strangers.

He didn't realize he was feeling anything different until both women walked away, speaking in hushed tones while the child crossed her arms, staring and petulant, in the center of the room.

There was a lightness, here. Like a breeze through a sheet, hanging to dry. An easiness. Gentle. Flowing.

The human part of Damien grasped at it desperately, and he forced himself to look at the child.

"You're not Lucifer," she said, firmly.

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You know Lucifer?"

She gave a single, curt nod.

"Tell me about him," he asked.

Trixie opened her mouth but shut it when her mother called to her, coming back into the living room. 

"What do you want with him?" Chloe asked, setting a hand on her child's shoulder.

"Just need to speak with him."

"About?"

He smiled, looking at the floor. "I think that's between him and me."

Chloe looked to her daughter. "I'm going to bring Maze's friend to see Lucifer, okay? You be good for her."

"But I want to see him, too," Trixie whined. 

"I'm sure he'll be around soon," Chloe promised, and Damien watched the interaction with growing interest. "Go get ready for bed. And no snacks after you brush your teeth," she called out as the child scampered toward Maze, who stood outside her bedroom door.

"Ready?" she asked.

He pushed himself off the counter. "Why you? Why not Maze?"

Chloe glanced over her shoulder to the woman before answering. "They're working some stuff out," she answered, and together they walked through the door.

 

Chloe drove them to Lux in silence, Damien drifting between watching the passing city and staring at her. It reminded her, uncomfortably, of someone else - though he had yet to make a sexual remark, so maybe not so much.

On the elevator ride up he finally turned to her and spoke. "You're not afraid of him," he remarked.

She glanced over. "No."

"How? If he's supposed to be the Devil?""

She took in a deep breath. "I don't know," she answered, honestly. "I just know him, I guess."

The doors opened, revealing an immaculate place. She would have guessed no one was home, or had been home, except for the figure on the balcony. 

"I am," whispered Damien, hesitating as she stepped out.

"You can go," she offered, but he steeled himself.

"No," he said. "No, there are bigger things at stake."

He followed her to the balcony doors, then stood in place as she walked out. 

Lucifer smiled warmly, tossing the cigarette over the edge as she approached. Damien noticed they both moved as though to embrace one another, but stopped themselves short.

Interesting.

Chloe gestured over her shoulder. "Wants to talk to you," she explained. "For some reason," she joked.

"Not really making deals at the moment," said Lucifer, brushing past and into the apartment. 

"Don't need a deal."

"What, then?" he asked, moving toward the bar. "No one comes to the Devil for advice."

"Maze said -"

"Ah," chuckled Lucifer, pouring himself a drink. He gestured toward Chloe, who declined, and poured one for the other man instead. "Maze. Vicious little demon," he admonished.

"Yes," Damien said, accepting the glass. Something in his voice made Lucifer pause. Chloe, too. "There's no other way to say this," he continued, "but I don't have a lot of time. Is she -" he asked, lifting a finger toward Chloe.

"Say what you like," Lucifer answered, much to Chloe's surprise. "I'm tired of secrets," he explained.

"Before you do," Chloe added, "know that I'm a cop."

Something dark flashed behind Damien's eyes, and the air in the room grew noticeably colder. "Last cop I met tried to kill me."

"I can see what Maze likes in you," Lucifer said, teasing. Damien had yet to take his eyes off Chloe, much to Lucifer's growing agitation. 

"So I killed him, instead," he growled.

Chloe lifted a hand, resting it atop her gun.

"What was your name?" Lucifer asked, setting down his glass.

"Damien. Damien Thorn," he answered.

"And you are?"

Damien tore his eyes away, bringing himself to stare into the face of the Devil. "The Antichrist."


	7. As Above, So Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The devil burns hot, so who burns cold?

Chloe giggled as Lucifer cracked a smile. "Antichrist?" she repeated. "Okay, really," she smiled, trying to stop the bubbling laughter. "What's going on?"

A few days ago Damien might have laughed along with them, but that was long gone, now. He grit his teeth together, glaring at her.

Chloe pulled her gun and shoved in beneath her jaw, catching her breath in her throat.

Lucifer grabbed Damien by the throat, shoving him backwards until they were both back on the balcony. Chloe pulled the gun away, stunned into silence.

Lucifer dangled him over the railing, his grip just loose enough to allow the other man to speak. 

"Tell me why I don't just end your life now," he said, his face and eyes flashing into their true shape, red and scarred.

The beast within Damien smiled. "Do it," he urged. 

Chloe appeared on the threshold, gun at the ready. 

"Kill me," he said, his tongue darting between his teeth. "I tried. Maybe you can fix it."

"Why come to me?" Lucifer asked, tense and swaying.

Damien laughed, leaning further back over the railing, throwing out his arms against the wind. "Do it," he yelled, into the darkness.

_As above, so below._

"Lucifer," Chloe warned.

Lucifer considered pulling the man back in. The laughter coming from the other man was peeling and raw, like he had screamed his voice hoarse. Perhaps he had. He made no move to save himself.

Chloe lowered her weapon. "Please."

Lucifer sighed, pulling the other man back. Damien stumbled a few steps forward, thrown by the inertia, just barely sidestepping the hot tub.

Lucifer glared at the sky as Damien composed himself. "You're early," he said. "Judgement day isn't due for a few years, yet."

"I don't think I have that much time," Damien explained, rubbing his neck. "Dad," he added, with a mirthless laugh.

"Dad?" repeated Chloe.

"Please," Lucifer smirked. "You're the son of Satan in the same way my brother was the son of God. Just a different facet of the same power. _If_ I had a child," he told Chloe, "I think I'd very much know about it."

"Well, sorry," said Damien, attempting to get past Chloe. She reluctantly moved out of his way. "No one's really explained the finer details to me. Everybody's got some big plan in the works."

"Yes, that does sound familiar," Lucifer said, following.

Chloe stuck her gun back in its holster, the threat apparently gone. She could get whiplash from the mood swings she was currently witnessing. "Okay, wait," she said, watching Lucifer take a seat at the piano. "What is going on?"

Damien collapsed onto the couch and she stepped away from him.

"The end of the world," said Lucifer, as easily as if he were saying it was raining.

"And you, just, think this is fine, then."

He shrugged. "Bound to happen eventually."

She nodded, looking up to the ceiling, tugging her bottom lip in her teeth. He looked at her, confused. "The Lucifer I knew - before all this shit," she spit, hovering at his side, "he gave a damn about the world, and maybe a couple people in it. Guess you are the Devil."

She marched away and something inside him fell, realizing what she said were true, though he couldn't figure out what had changed.

"She seems nice," said Damien, eyes still closed and resting on the couch.

Lucifer shot him a look, but couldn't bring himself to go after her.

 

Chloe barely felt the key in her hand as she pushed open the door. Numb wouldn't begin to cover it. Maze appeared after a few moments, long enough to find Chloe staring at nothing.

"Went that well, huh?" Maze asked.

"This is it, Maze."

"What is?"

Chloe stirred. "There's something wrong with Lucifer."

"That's an understatement."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No. Something's really wrong. Different. He doesn't care. He's... cold."

"Care about what?"

Chloe could barely bring herself to say it. "The end."

 

Lucifer toyed with a few keys, tinkling out a new melody. "I don't know what I can do for you," he said.

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," Damien answered.

"No reason to lie."

Damien huffed, his body sagging deeper into the cushions. "I don't even know what I'm doing here. If it's all 'God's will,'" he quoted, "then there's no point in trying to change it."

"I can assure you it rarely ends well. But I'm more than willing to help flip Dad the bird, if you like."

"You should have killed me, then."

"There's always next time," joked Lucifer.

Damien chuckled darkly. "You're not really what I expected."

"Eons of bad propaganda, I'm afraid. Do I disappoint?" The look on Damien's face was enough to say that he did. Lucifer shut the case over the piano keys. "Very well, then," he said, standing. "Nothing new, there."

Damien followed suit. "So there's nothing you can do?"

Lucifer refilled his glass. "The power inside you is from Hell itself. You're like... well, not a portal, exactly. Like a funnel of energy. You focus it on Earth. It's not a connection I can sever, I'm sorry. I only ruled Hell, I didn't create it." Damien swallowed the information, the bile thick in his throat. Lucifer tried to avoid rolling his eyes. "If I could help, I would. Earth's better than any other place I've been. I quite like it here."

"Any way to quiet it?" asked Damien, his voice barely enough to travel the room.

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips. "Booze, drugs, sex. The usual trifecta. Drowns out the screams."

"I noticed that," Damien said, slowly making his way toward the elevator. "Wouldn't call it helping, though."

"Never said it did."

_Hope was not a thing with feathers, perched on the soul._

_Hope was a Leviathan, swirling deep, somewhere in the dark._

Lucifer stood in the center of the room, watching. The elevator doors closed, as though to trap the Devil between them.

Perhaps there was something he could do, after all.


	8. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old Habits. Die hard.

Murder-suicides spiked in L.A., the hallmark of Damien's arrival, keeping Detective Decker pretty busy. 

Not Chloe Decker. No, she was stuck somewhere in Lucifer's penthouse, stuck in the look in his eyes when he casually announced the oncoming apocalypse, stuck with the words he did not say. _And I couldn't care less about it, darling._

Detective Decker still had to be sure the bodies that dropped were what they appeared to be, and not some elaborate staging technique to cover up two, or three, or six multiple murders. 

Lucifer would have probably called it _expedient. Convenient._ He would probably say, _how nice of them to do the work for us, detective._

She wasn't sure.

He wasn't with her.

Linda left the hospital and called Chloe, searching for either Maze or Lucifer. She hadn't seen either since they left the hospital, days ago. Chloe could hear the strain in her voice, the fear of abandonment seeping through. Chloe had no news. She hadn't seen them, either. Maze left the next morning, and she hadn't seen Lucifer since that evening.

She considered it a kindness not to tell Linda what was really going on. The truth had done nothing but bring her heartache, and though Chloe desperately wished to talk with her about it, she kept the news to herself.

Days working.

Nights alone.

She took Trixie to school, read her bedtime stories, laughed at her stories over breakfast.

It was enough. It was enough to know her child could have a normal, happy childhood. Whatever remained of it.

 

Lucifer fell into what used to help. His advice. Alcohol, drugs, sex. A simple equation: put these things in your body (or your body into these things) and you will feel better.

And it worked. Marginally. 

Maze was gone, stuck to Damien's side like the disloyal demon Lucifer always knew her to be.

At least, that's what he told himself. The other reason was far to painful to comprehend.

The thought popped up in stinging shards, muted only by the copious application of poisonous products.

It didn't take long for Lucifer to lose himself, to question all that ever mattered: his relationship with the detective, his place in the Universe, his role to play, his free will.

These things all fell apart, and the angel inside the Devil pushed further and further to the surface, rising in power.

The angel Lucifer used to be, the person he thought died in the Fall.

The Destroyer.

Lucifer loved Lux, but some nights he couldn't stand to be there. It reminded him too much of the potential of things long broken.

He strayed to another, someplace darker, someplace where names weren't used and questions weren't asked. He was up against a corner, the bass drumming a beat inside him, his fingers up a dress, flirting with the damp panties of a stranger while she panted into his mouth and he drank in her sweet taste of desire.

Maze and Damien appeared, loose-limbed and smiling. Maze caught sight of her former lover, and Damien slipped a hand low around her waist, nuzzling into her ear, placating. Lucifer grinned at her before the woman pushed herself deeper into his hips, and his head fell back against the wall with a groan.

The three of them together was too much for the room to bear.

The first murder, a stabbing, went unnoticed. Unconsciously, the scent entered their minds, the scent of blood and fear, primal.

Intoxicating.

The need became greater.

Death mingled, brushing its hand over bare forearms and shoulders, touching hands. Stabbing. Strangling. Overdosing. Feeding.

People began to rip each other apart, and Lucifer unfurled his wings, unable to reign in the excitement of it any longer.

Maze looked to him as a spurt of arterial blood splattered on his face, his white shirt. Blood coated his teeth when he smiled.

The lightbringer was no longer. There was no need for him, now.

It was not Lucifer who got his wings back. 

"The Destroyer of Worlds," Maze whispered. He heard her, above the screams. The music never stopped, deep and fast.

What was left of the human in Damien leaned against the bar, watching the carnage. It was no worse than anything else he'd seen. Felt almost like home. Felt like he belonged. "Who?" he asked, to the demon at his side, awed by the sight of the angel.

"Samael."

 

They were long gone by the time Chloe got wind of the carnage. It was out of her jurisdiction, but she insisted on checking it out anyway. She stepped into the crime scene - the entire club space - and lost her breath at the sight. 

"Like a damn bomb went off," said the detective at her side. They watched the forensics personnel stepping over bodies, leaving markers and taking photographs. 

Chloe's mouth was as dry as the desert and just as lifeless. "Like Armageddon," she said.


	9. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one to save, only one to sacrifice.

Chloe sucked it up, left Trixie with Dan, and headed to Lux. She expected it to be busy, pulling into the garage beneath the building, double checking her badge was visible only when she pulled aside her jacket (a courtesy to Lucifer, who asked she didn't frighten off his patrons before they even got in the door). 

But no one was there to greet her. Friday night and even the bouncer was gone. 

She'd say the place was dead, but that hit a little too close to home right now.

The eerie quiet followed her into the elevator and Lucifer's penthouse. She carefully stepped inside, calling out his name. A muffled groan came from the bedroom, and she followed it, hoping to find Lucifer and no one else.

He was alone, seated on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. 

She hesitated at the foot of the steps, and he lifted his head, sensing her presence. He hadn't bothered to change, blood still covering his shirt, smeared on his hands and face. 

"God," she breathed, swiftly kneeling in front of him, holding his wrist and flipping his arm over, searching for wounds. 

"No," he said, darkly chuckling. She took his chin in hand and turned his face, and he snapped out of her grasp.

She stood, towering over him for once. "What happened?" she asked, her mouth a thin, straight line.

He glared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes, dropping his head again. He rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. "Bloody headache," he explained.

"I mean - why are you covered in blood?"

His hand stilled. "That is unusual, isn't it? I thought as much."

"I just left the worst crime scene I've ever witnessed, and I've seen a lot of shit in my time, Lucifer."

He winced again. 

"Please," she breathed, "just tell me what's going on. I just want to understand."

"You can't understand, detective," he answered. 

"Lucifer, please."

"Stop," he said, his shoulders tight, straining.

"Lucifer, I just want -"

"Stop!" he yelled, rising to his feet, forcing her back several steps. His wings exploded outward, encompassing the room, and she could see that blood spattered on them, too. "Lucifer, I want," he repeated, his voice growing stronger, "Lucifer, just tell me, just give me, I want, I need, I desire."

"You know that's not -"

"What you want?" he said, the wings still taunt. "Tell me what it is you desire, detective. Tell me what the Heavens can do for you," he finished, shouting.

She clenched her jaw, unmoving.

His voice lowered in volume, but the tone remained the same. "Humanity does nothing but consume. Feed and consume and destroy _everything_ precious given to you. Given to you for _nothing_. Worthy of God's love, indeed. Worthy of _my_ love."

"Lucifer," she warned, unwilling to take another step back.

He winced again, raising a hand to his temple and shutting his eyes, the wings shaking with tension.

She waited a moment, watching, then brushed her fingers on the hand holding his head. He released it gently downwards, opening his eyes. 

"We have come too far for you to shut me out," she said, holding tightly onto his hand.

He blinked, trying to recover, the pulse beneath her skin soothing.

He wanted more of it. Craved it.

Gently, he flipped his hand to feel her pulse on her wrist, staring at the delicate skin.

"Something's wrong," he finally admitted, more to himself than to her. The wings folded and disappeared, plunging them back into a dim, orange light.

"Is this really the end?" she asked quietly. 

"As far as I can tell," he said, moving his hand up her forearm, pushing up the long sleeve of her dark shirt, exposing her skin, pale in the darkness.

"There's nothing you can do?"

He scoffed. "And go against God's will?"

"I thought that was sort of your thing," she said, teasing. It fell flat.

His hand abandoned the fabric and trailed up to her neck, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Whose?" he asked.

She shook her head, not understanding. He caressed her jaw with his thumb, and her lips parted of their own accord. His eyes lifted to hers and he stopped, waiting.

"The Devils'," she answered, confused.

His hand was cold against her skin. 

She wasn't stopping him. 

He pulled her forward and she stumbled slightly, closing the gap between them. 

"Lucifer," she said again.

No flash of recognition offered itself in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, his breath cold against her lips.

"Who?"

 

The New York office was humming with activity. Damien returned from the balcony to the hotel room and Maze, lounging on the bed.

"What's up?" she said, popping the word off her lips. "You look down."

He turned the phone in his hand before tossing it onto a bag. "Do you think this is right?" he asked.

She laughed. "Right? What's right?"

"All this," he said, gesturing toward the room, the city glittering outside. She uprighted herself, crawling closer toward him, a snake in the grass. "I didn't want this. I came here to stop." He glanced over her figure. "You're probably not the right person to ask."

"Not a person," she said, then lightly shrugged. "I like the world. I left Hell for a reason."

"And what reason was that?"

She paused, unwilling to say the truth - that she followed out of loyalty, out of love. Unlike Lucifer, she felt no obligation to do so.

Damien looked over his shoulder to the night outside.

"Lucifer really had no idea how to help you?"

He shook his head, unable to face her.

Maze considered the options. The world - or the friendship of one human.

"Do you remember that woman I had bring you to see Lucifer? Chloe Decker?"

Damien turned.

He smiled.

"I was thinking the same thing."


	10. Death Wish

"Who?" repeated Chloe, pulling herself out of his grasp. 

Lucifer could only tilt his head, curious. 

It wasn't him. She didn't know how to explain it, but the man across from her - the man who quipped jokes like breathing, who enraged her with his antics, who made her smile when she thought she couldn't - that person was gone, and someone else, someone cold and distant and, _God, was he trying to study her?_ took his place.

"What?" she managed. 

He answered only with silence. 

She turned to walk away, and a desperate plea left his lips, freezing her to the spot. "Don't go," he asked. 

Something about the request made ice run through her veins, and she looked toward the elevator. She felt his presence behind her, that primal instinct in her brain screaming _dangerous_. He brushed her hair away, trailing a finger down her back. 

"You're afraid," he said.

"Don't sound so thrilled about it."

She felt his laugh through his fingers. They lifted the back of her shirt, skirting across the skin of her lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

"Let me go."

His hand splayed flat on her back, and she remembered he did the same when he was convinced she may be an angel, sent to destroy him.

"Why?" 

She opened her mouth to answer as he leaned down, his hand moving over her waist to her stomach, pulling her flush to him. She could feel his building excitement. 

"Because you love me," she whispered. 

Lucifer stilled, his breath at her ear, shallow.

"Do I?" he asked, his voice having lost the edge it carried only moments ago.

She turned, searching his face. His hand hovered over her waist and his eyebrows furrowed, so small she may be imagining it. "Yes," she whispered.

His gaze was somewhere else, distant.

"Lucifer?"

"You should go."

"Tell me what's going on. Don't shut me out."

He shook his head, dropping his hand and smiling sheepishly at the ground. The tightness in his face gave away the smile's falseness. 

"Please."

He wiped a hand on his shirt, surprised at the texture, the drying blood he found there. "If I knew, I would tell you."

"Is that a promise?" she asked.

He looked at the blood caked in the beds of his fingernails, and the light behind the bar flickered. 

"Chloe."

He looked into her bright blue eyes, and saw the fear behind them. He steeled himself against it, the desire he felt to bring it out. 

Samael was an angel of desire. The angel of Thanatos, of destruction, of the all-consuming flame, burning across the world.

The Death Wish, personified.

No wonder he Fell.

"Go."

 

Lucifer, stuck with no other options, prayed.

Not to his Father, for he knew nothing would come of it. He called for the only other angel on Earth. 

Amenadiel didn't show up as fast as he would've liked, but someone who could control time wasn't typically worried about being prompt. Lucifer held a knife in his hands, the largest he could find, dangling it over the balcony ledge, the brightening sky reflecting off its blade. He may not have Maze's knives, but one angel could hurt another. He could only hope the other angel was not only able, but also willing.

Amenadiel stepped into the space beside his brother, making a point of looking down. Lucifer handed him the knife.

"What's this for?" he asked, turning it in his hands.

Lucifer undid his shirt buttons, shrugging it off as he kneeled at Amenadiel's feet. 

He was stunned, to say the least.

The shock didn't abate when Lucifer unfurled his wings. 

"Oh, Luci," he said, in awe of his brother's immaculate wings, ignoring the blood stains. He was no stranger to them, himself.

"Do it," said Lucifer, speaking to the floor.

"This is a gift, Luci. A second chance. A new beginning."

Lucifer grabbed his brother's calf, looking up. "I can't do it myself. You must."

Amenadiel shook his head, holding the knife like a feather. "I can't destroy something divine, Luci. I'm not like you."

Lucifer sprung to his feet, grabbing his brother by the throat and slamming him to the floor. "I'm not like me, Amenadiel," he said, holding his struggling brother still under his grasp. "Do you remember me, as I was? Not younger, not as a child, but back when I followed Father's orders? Do you remember the carnage? The Hell on Earth?" He swept out an arm toward the city, mania glittering in his eyes. " _I_ was responsible for punishing them, not Father, back in the time when Hell was only an idea in His mind. And guess what, bro? _That's_ what I carry on my back. Those memories of destruction, of death, calling to me. Not a gift."

Amenadiel ceased struggling, listening.

"A burden. A weight that's heavier with every passing moment, and I can feel it digging into me, urging me to be the angel I once was, not the man I've become."

Lucifer's grip softened and Amenadiel pushed him off, until they were both sitting on the ground. The sun rose over the buildings beside them, its reflection caught in the glass.

"Where's Maze?" Amenadiel asked, rubbing his neck.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" said Lucifer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "She's off with the bloody _Antichrist_. Having a rolling good time, I imagine."

"The -"

"The Antichrist, yes. End of times, brother. Get with the program," Lucifer chastised, standing, his wings disappearing. He offered a hand to upright his brother, who took it. "Thought Father would have let you know by now."

"I've heard nothing."

"Welcome to the club."

"I'm not destroying your wings," Amenadiel stated, brushing himself off. "I won't. You'll have to find a way to handle it."

"Wonderful. Very helpful, truly."

"You'll get over it," Amenadiel said, patting him on the shoulder and turning them both back inside. "Tell me about this Antichrist."

 


	11. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> freedom is a length of rope

Chloe never made it home.

Dan balanced the phone on his shoulder as it rang for his ex-wife, lifting a cup of coffee over the head of his tornado of a child as she scampered around him in the kitchen of his apartment. He cursed under his breath at the incessant ringing, finally hanging up.

"Munchkin, baby," he said, and Trixie returned, dragging her backpack behind her. "I'm bringing you to school today, okay? But we gotta leave right now if Daddy's not going to be late to work, too."

Trixie swung the bag over her shoulder with a curt nod, and Dan hurriedly drained the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the heat as though he'd just drained a shot of whisky.

He dropped his daughter off and sped to work, considering throwing on the lights to get through traffic faster - he knew of a certain someone who, in the same position, definitely would have... except that person didn't have a job he could actually be _late_ to, so his road-rage inducing scenario didn't exactly pan out.

Which only frustrated him, further.

He strolled into the precinct and over to Chloe's desk, only to find it empty.

"Hey, Ramierz," he asked a passing detective, "you seen Chloe?"

The other man shook his head, and Dan tugged the phone from his pocket, calling Chloe again.

It rang and rang, not going to voicemail.

He sighed, plopping down at his desk, pushing aside some of the disarray to create a viable work space. The phone lay heavy in his hand. "C'mon, Chloe. You can't be serious," he said to it, searching through his contacts for the one number he definitely didn't want to call to find his _ex_ -wife.

Lucifer picked up on the third ring with a curt greeting of "Douche. Not the best time."

"Not that I really want to know the answer to this, but is Chloe with you?"

"No," drew out the voice on the other line. It sounded strained. "She left last night. Fairly early, I might add."

"Yeah, well, nice to know she's still got some common sense."

A huff on the other end answered him.

"Are you alright, man? You sound kinda off," offered Dan, confused at the other man's lack of snappy comebacks. He leaned back, tilting in the desk chair.

"Fine."

"Whatever, man. Anyway. Chloe didn't pick up Trixie this morning, and she's not at work. Just let me know if you see her, alright?"

Silence.

"She's gone?" asked Lucifer.

Dan hunched forward, resting on his elbows. "I wouldn't go that far. She could just be running late. I'll keep trying her, call dispatch. Just wanted to check if she happened to be with you."

An honest-to-God _growl_ came from the other end of the line.

Dan pulled the phone away from his ear to check it wasn't static, then replaced it. "Dude."

The long hiss of a dial tone met him, and Dan looked at the phone as he hung up. "Yeah, that's perfectly normal."

 

Chloe groaned herself awake, the hangover of the century filling her head with swaths of cotton fields. She adjusted her head on the pillow, clenching her eyes shut. A sharp stab of pain coursed though her body from the back of her head, and she gingerly lifted a hand to feel it. The crunch of dried blood on hair met her, and she forced her eyes open, adrenaline pumping her body awake while her mind tried to catch up.

The sun shone softly through the bay window, falling onto her face. She pushed herself upright in the bed, the soft, white covers trailing down her front. 

"It's not personal," came a voice, and she turned to follow it like a flower follows the sun. That man, the one Maze had her bring, leaned against the threshold to the bathroom, arms folded across his body. It became painfully, obviously aware that they were alone in the room.

Chloe (sneakily, she hoped) ran her hand down her side, searching for her weapon. It was gone. 

"Damien, right?" she said, her hostage training kicking in. _Befriend them. Find out what they want._

He unfolded his arms and took the few steps closer to sit on the corner of the bed with her. She pulled her knees to her chest. He gazed out the window. "It's easier, in the daytime. Helps me feel more like the person I used to be." He huffed out a laugh. "Seems in the night, in the dark, all the decisions I make tend to be bad ones."

"Like kidnapping?"

He nodded. "Like I said. Nothing personal. Not to you, anyway."

She patted her fingertips on top the wound, wincing. "Do you have any...?" she started to ask, and Damien got to his feet, disappearing into the bathroom. She listened to the water running and took the opportunity to look around the room. There was nothing stopping her from just walking out the door. She wasn't restrained in any way. She slowly pushed the covers down, stopping when he returned, a wet wash cloth in hand.

She took it from him, holding it to the back of her head. 

"Sorry. Not much else here."

 _Establish a baseline. Determine location._ "Where's here?"

"The hotel I've been staying at," he answered quickly. "Listen. There's no help coming. For me, not for you. I'm sure, being a cop, there's already people looking for you, so I don't have a lot of time. Though that's just in general."

She pulled the washcloth away, studying the blood stain left behind. "You nearly had me shoot myself."

"Yeah. Like I said. The darkness kind of takes over."

She nodded, trying to comprehend the information he was presenting.

"But. I am sorry. I don't want to drag anyone into this, but I've got no choice."

 _Now is not the time to get snippy, Detective Decker,_ she reminded herself.

"Thanks," she managed. "So what do you need from me? Why am I here?"

Damien lost his gaze somewhere on the floor, and she couldn't help but feel, even in her current situation, sympathy for someone who seemed so obviously lost. "Lucifer said he couldn't help. Couldn't stop whatever is coming. I don't believe him."

"He doesn't lie."

"He's the Father of Lies, detective. I'm sorry you can't see that. He's got some - regard, for you. I can see why," he smiled.

She shook her head, not understanding. 

"There's something... pure, about you. Like a light. You don't feel it?"

She tentatively reached a hand forward, letting it fall lightly on his shoulder. "Damien, please. Whatever you're trying to accomplish, I'm sure I can help. This wasn't necessary."

This time it was his turn to look at her with sympathy. "You're under his influence."

Chloe laughed, then winced at the pressure in her head. "He wishes."

"He'll help me," said Damien, his eyes steady on hers. "He'll help me, because of you."

"If he said -"

Damien stood as the door opened. Maze strolled in, seemingly unfazed by the picture that greeted her. Chloe's heart sank at the realization. 

"Lucifer will find a way to stop this," Damien explained. "Or you'll die."

 

A couple of uniforms found Chloe's car still parked at Lux, and a trace on her phone placed it on a busy strip of beach, as though it had just fallen out of her pocket - which Dan knew couldn't have been the case. Lucifer insisted that Dan tell him the exact location on the beach. It was no surprise to him - the same spot he had made Maze cut off his wings.

A message.

Dan picked Trixie up from school with no word yet on her mother, but he put out a BOLO for her, and tried to put on a good face for their child.

"Mommy's just working late," he lied. She didn't seem to convinced, but let it slide when he plied her with pizza for dinner back at his place. She fell asleep in his arms, a Disney movie playing with the volume turned far too low to really hear. Dan breathed in the scent of her hair, placing a kiss at the top of her head. 

He loved his child, but he sure as hell didn't want to raise her alone.

 

The longer he was away from Chloe, the more agitated Lucifer became. His brother sat on the couch in the penthouse, quietly thinking, while Lucifer paced.

The sun rung out its final rays of dying light, and Lucifer - the light bringer - faded with it, standing on the balcony to watch.

There was one way to end this, though it involved returning to a place Lucifer really had no intention of ever going to again.

Amenadiel felt the cool rush of air through the doorway, and called out for his brother, who didn't respond.

"I think it's time to tell the police about Damien Thorn. They can find out where he's staying, and hopefully find Chloe in the process. Though I can't imagine he would be stupid enough to keep her where he's staying. We'll get her back, brother."

He stood, fishing his phone out of his pocket when Lucifer stilled his hand. 

"He'll come to us," said Lucifer, beckoning for his brother to follow. As he approached the elevator, an empty glass resting atop the bar cracked, and the low light behind him wavered.

"Luci?" said Amenadiel, the strong scent of ozone filling the room. 

Lucifer's face was hidden in darkness when he answered. The elevator doors closed.

"No."


	12. Hell on Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> abandon all hope, you who enter here

Lucifer would have thought it odd to find the beach as deserted as it was, for it was still a warm southern California evening, not yet midnight. 

Samael held no such questions. It was deserted because he was approaching. Small crabs ducked into stray clumps of seaweed and tiny, dug out holes. Starfish began to move away, as quickly as a creature who moves an inch every hour can go, and fish hid themselves away in crevices beneath the water's surface. Seagulls roosting on lifeguard towers flew away to warmer climes. 

The air grew cold, as though heat itself was trying to make itself smaller, tuck itself away.

They were waiting when he arrived, Maze and Damien a step ahead on either side of Chloe, her gun held plainly in his hand.

Samael didn't much care what happened to the woman. 

Samael didn't much care for any of them, really. 

But principles had to be upheld, and this one was making a grievous mistake.

Maze stepped to the side as he approached, and he shot a hand out at her to stop her from going any further. She obeyed. "You and I will have a talk about your insubordination later, demon," he said. 

Damien lifted the gun, giving Lucifer pause. Samael pushed them another few steps forward.

Damien then handed the gun to Chloe, who took it as though she'd never held one before in her life.

"What is it you desire, Damien Thorn?" 

"Which one?" he asked, throwing his hands out wide, a strained smile on his face. "Me, or this dark cloud inside me that wants to end the world? Cause you know, it's getting kind of hard to tell the difference."

Samael rolled his neck, waiting.

"I can't handle it. Not anymore," Damien said, his breathing heavy. He stared at Chloe, who fell to her knees. "I know there's no help coming," he said, dragging his eyes back to the Devil. "Why do you think I came to you?" he asked, nearly shouting. "I was out of options. And you tell me there's nothing you can do? _The Devil himself_ tells me there's no way out?"

"I'm not the Devil," said Samael, and the three of them stared, confused.

Samael took another step closer, and Chloe lifted the gun, settling the barrel beneath her jaw.

"Lucifer," she whispered, though she never opened her mouth. His name echoed in his head. "Please."

"The mistake you've made is assuming I care for any of them," he said, taking another step closer. Damien wavered in place. "In addition to contemplating you've held the power of death for yourself. You do not."

He bade the Antichrist closer, and he obeyed. Chloe was able to lower the gun, forcing it into her lap, pointing away.

A cold wind overtook them, scattering sand and waves behind her.

"Help me," said Damien, his voice barely above the wind. "Help me," he asked again, more forcefully. "Kill me."

Chloe made to stand. Maze held out a hand to ask her to stop. 

The sand behind Damien began to swirl and whisk away, leaving bare bedrock beneath, sending his hair flying. The _666_ on the side of his skull became obvious, and Samael smirked.

The bedrock cracked, and Maze gestured for Chloe to move away. She rushed to the demon's side.

"It was you or the world," Maze said, leaning into Chloe. "I'm sorry."

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that," Chloe answered, pulling them both a few more steps away.

The bedrock crumbled away, and Samael grasped Damien by the front of his shirt. "Just please tell me what's happening," Chloe asked.

A gust of ashes blew out of the hole left behind, and Chloe could see the vast, blue distance below. The air around the two men simmered, burning hot. 

"That's Hell," answered Maze, her voice thick with awe. "I've never seen this before," she admitted. "Lucifer and I didn't come up this way."

Samael spoke, his voice booming over the swarm of dust and ash. "You're going to wish I killed you."

Damien looked into the abyss with fear in his eyes. He gazed downward, then steeled himself against what was to come. He turned back to Lucifer, nodding, acquiescing.

"Through me the way to the city of woe," Samael began, unfurling his wings. "Through me the way to everlasting pain. Through me the way among the lost. Justice moved my maker on high, divine power made me, wisdom supreme, and the primal love."

Damien's clothes began to burn away from the heat beneath him. Lucifer's suit jacket also caught fire, and Chloe rushed forward, but Maze held her back.

"Before me nothing was but things eternal, and eternal, I endure."

The burning overtook Damien, and he screamed in agony. Lucifer's visage began to burn away, trailing behind the flames, burning up his arms and chest.

"Son of Night," Samael continued, "you were given authority to rule over the Earth and I, Samael, the Poison and Venom and Left Hand of God, Fallen and Risen Angel and the True Harbinger of the End of Time, hereby revoke it."

Damien clutched frantically at Lucifer's hands and wrists, an unspoken begging to be pulled away. Samael held fast, his glamour burning away on his face, leaving nothing but the raked, blood-red, scarred Devil beneath. 

Chloe was no longer completely sure if she were breathing. The stench of Hell would have been enough, but the shimmering image before her drained her of all sense.

"Do you abandon all Hope, son of God?" Samael asked. The bottom edges of his wings caught fire, smoldering.

Damien managed to stop screaming. He looked up at the stars, glittering and bright in the dark vastness of sky, a cold, distant witness. 

Much like the God he was supposed to believe in, who had done nothing to help his plight.

The feathers burned away hotter, faster, and Maze could see the pain wrestling its way to the surface in Lucifer's face, in the way his hand had begun to shake.

Any tears that may have fell were boiled away, on either man.

"I do," he said, his eyes stuck on the stars, the clear air above. 

Hell slid them both closer to the edge, and Damien let go of Lucifer's wrist, letting his arms dangle helplessly at his sides. Samael managed to stop himself just at the edge, and this time it was Chloe who had to stop Maze from running forward.

When Samael spoke, his voice echoed in their heads, out onto the ocean and into the stars themselves. "Then I commit to you the power and authority to rule Hell in my stead."

Damien looked back into the burned face and red eyes of his predecessor. He nodded, taking in a deep breath. The last uncorrupted breath he would ever take.

Samael let go, and the Antichrist fell.

The wings burned away to nothing and Lucifer fell to his knees. Maze rushed forward as the portal closed, shoving him out of the way. 

Chloe dropped the gun in the sand, a whirlwind of ash and smoke dissipating into the night air around them.

"Lucifer?" asked Maze, lifting his head and smacking his blood-red, skinless cheek.

The glamour returned, and Chloe could clearly see the scars on his back were no longer the marbled tissue of before, but now red and raw, scabbed and burned away. 

"Lucifer," Maze repeated, shaking his shoulders. He groaned, leaning into her, mumbling something into her shoulder. Chloe joined them, helping Maze hold him upright. "Asshole," Maze said, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"What he'd say?" asked Chloe, having given up long ago about making any sense of the situation.

Maze smiled, pulling Lucifer to his feet, his arm thrown over her shoulder. Thankfully, he managed only to singe his pants in the flames, though his shoes had gone the way of ash. If Chloe didn't know any better, she'd say Lucifer looked black-out drunk.

"Said he could use a drink," she repeated. Chloe rushed to her feet, throwing his other arm over her shoulder, and together they walked him back to his car.

"I hate you right now," Chloe reminded her.

"Yeah," said Maze, adjusting Lucifer's weight as she dropped him in the passenger seat. "What else is new."


	13. Out with the Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and in with the new

Chloe made a beeline for Dan's apartment while Maze drove Lucifer back to Lux. 

Dan opened the door - they didn't have keys to each other's place, even though as cops they knew that would probably be safest - and Trixie burst into her arms, surprising both adults, given the late hour.

"I thought you were asleep," Dan said to their daughter, taking in the sight of Chloe's wind-blown hair and clothes as she knelt to hug her.

"I was," claimed Trixie. "Then I wasn't."

"Can't argue with that," said Chloe, laughing.

"Are you okay?" asked Dan, as she stood. 

Chloe forced a smile, looking down at her child. "Let's get you back to bed, monkey," she said, which Dan understood as code for "we'll talk later."

He followed her into the bedroom, his chest tightening at the sight of blood caked in her hair. He paused at the doorway, realizing he needed to call in that she had been found, leaving Chloe to tuck in the child herself.

Needless to say, their lieutenant gave her a couple days off after that, though if she had known the full extent of what actually happened - and what had almost happened - Chloe thought, she'd probably give her the rest of the year to recover. Fat chance.

 

Lucifer didn't heal as quickly as he would've liked. He spent the next few days sans shirt, alone in his penthouse, sleeping more than he'd ever slept before. He was used to spending time in his bed, but this was bordering on ridiculous. 

Maze and Amenadiel had gone somewhere to talk, and Lucifer could laugh at the idea. They'd been gone for days. Which was fine. He wasn't particularly willing to face anyone right now. 

Of course, fate determined otherwise.

 

Chloe arrived at his penthouse early Saturday morning, early enough the streetlights were still on, three days after the... well. What she had taken to calling "the ordeal."

Perhaps she arrived very, very late Friday night. She wasn't sure. Sleep wasn't coming easily for her.

It came easily enough to Lucifer, she thought ruefully, spying his figure on the bed. She approached slowly, unsure. He barely stirred, laying on his side away from her and clutching a pillow. Neither wound touched the mattress, and the sheet had pooled around his waist. 

The scars were scabbed over, black and dry. Chloe sat on the edge of the bed, swallowing at the sight.

She wasn't sure how long she'd sat until he turned toward her, a scar creasing beneath him, jolting him awake.

He was equally surprised to see her there. 

"Are you, you again?" she asked softly. 

He pushed himself upright. "I think so."

"Good," she said, nodding, smoothing the bedspread at her sides. "Good." He could offer no response, and she shakily exhaled. "Sorry," she began, lifting a finger to her temple as though to apologize for her brain. "I've been trying -"

"Me, too," he interrupted quickly, and that made her sigh in relief. At least she wasn't alone in this.

He patted the space beside him, and she shot him a look. "Seriously?"

"Not like that," he assured, and the earnest look in his eyes made her believe him. She toed off her boots and folded her knees under her, resting to face him on the bed.

"Are you okay? Your back..."

He shrugged lightly. "Hellfire heals slowly. At least its just concentrated in one spot this time."

She nodded at the memory of his burned face, his body. "Never really heals, then."

"Should scar over, like the rest of it."

She considered this, then raised a hand to rub her forehead. "Could you just, please. Explain to me what happened."

He inhaled deeply. "I've been wondering that, myself."

"Great."

"I think. Well. I'm still not sure how I got to the desert, but when I woke the wings were back. They were the same as the ones I had, before. Not new."

"Before you cut them off," she clarified.

"Yes. But I burned them, to ash." He paused, remembering. "As far as I can tell, they reappeared when the Antichrist came into power. Which makes me believe I regained them for the purpose of war."

"War."

"Amputated soldiers don't make for good stock," he answered. "And the apocalypse was coming. There's kind of a big battle planned at the end of it."

"So I've heard," she said, cracking a smile. He couldn't help but offer one in return. "But you stopped it. You saved the world, Lucifer."

"No," he said, and she was taken aback.

"Humility is not one of your virtues," she said, shocked.

"I have virtues?"

"You know what I mean."

He smiled, small but genuine. "No, the power that returned was what caused the disparity you saw."

"Maze said a name. Sam, something." Lucifer looked to the sheet, unwilling to meet her eyes. "What?"

"Don't say it, please."

"I don't even know what it is," she said. "But whoever that was, he was a real dick."

Perhaps she could get a little bit of the old Lucifer to shine through, after all. 

"It's who I was before I Fell. When I still followed my Father's orders. And yes, he was a dick. He had no free will. Or, at least, that's what I told myself. You wouldn't believe the things I've done, detective. Horrendous. Evil."

She remained silent while he gathered his thoughts.

"At one point it became too much. I don't know if my Father asked too much, or if it had simply been building, but there was a point where I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take the guilt of it, anymore. So I raised my sword against my brother, my family, to end it. That's when light triumphed over darkness, when life triumphed over death, when the angel of Death became the one of light, and I Fell into the Underworld for my crimes." He breathed deeply, controlling himself, and Chloe placed a gentle hand atop his. "I ruled Hell, but it was also my punishment for disobeying."

He finally lifted his eyes to hers. 

"No soul has ever left Hell, because guilt and punishment are eternal. Maze and I - we escaped. It's where I belong, I know. I don't know if I'll ever get the blood off my hands."

Chloe squeezed his hand. "From what you've told me, it seems you had no choice. And that you've suffered enough."

Lucifer stared at her hand, gently overturning his to take hers, caressing it with his thumb. "I don't know. I still wonder if I had any choice about any of it. If I Fell because it was a consequence of my actions, or if it were all part of my Father's plan."

She shook her head, not understanding.

"I was the Angel of Death, Chloe. The Destroyer. But the most satisfying -" he paused, his breath hitching in his throat. He had never said this aloud, before, and certainly not to anyone else. She waited, patient. "The most satisfying being to destroy was myself."

He released her hand, tugging his own and making to move away. She stopped him with a hand on his chest, preventing him from moving forward, and he leaned back on his hands.

"You saved the world, Lucifer."

"Only because I'm supposed to be the one to destroy it."

"No. _He_ is. Not you." She let her hand trail down before taking it away. "And when that day comes, you'll have a choice. As you just did. I know you'll make the right one. The choice that saves lives, not ends them. You're not a killer, Lucifer."

"You don't know -"

"I do know. And you've got the scars on your back to prove it. If you got your wings back to fight in some war, and had them in Hell, then they are gone for a reason, now, too. Maybe they'll never come back. Maybe this was the one shot the world had at ending and you ruined it," she said, ending with a soft smile on her face. "If there's one thing I know about you, Lucifer, it's that no one can make you do anything. Maybe this was God finally giving in to your stubbornness."

He laughed lightly at that, daring a glance upward. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Well, _I_ believe it."

She sucked in her bottom lip, worrying it beneath her teeth for a moment. He found himself mesmerized by the action. 

"And I believe in you."

He could manage no more than shallow breaths.

"Thank you," she said, lifting a hand to his cheek. "And, for the record," she added softly, dropping her hand to his shoulder before sliding down to his hand, her blue eyes never leaving his, "I love you, too."

She studied his face as a myriad of expressions flickered across it, ending with a smile and an obviously-for-show confused look. He pointedly glanced around the room. "Am I dead?" he asked, returning his gaze to her face. "Cause the Silver City looks much better than it used to."

A small giggle escaped her throat like liquid, golden sunshine, and his own laugh joined it.

"You are a miracle," he said.

"Yeah, well, this miracle's hungry. So what are you making us for breakfast?" she asked, eyes glittering mischievously. 

"Breakfast?" he called out as she stood up, heading toward the other room. "But we haven't even -"

"After," she said, throwing the promise over her shoulder. Lucifer scrambled out of the sheets and she laughed at his eagerness.

"You know, its _you_ who should be making _me_ breakfast," he called out from the kitchen. 

"And why's that?"

"If I'm going to be some sort of hero, there's got to be perks, yes?"

She rolled her eyes, sad that he couldn't see it. She looked to the ceiling, shaking her head. "You owe me one."

Lucifer continued to wax poetic about his heroic attributes, and Chloe smiled, joining him. 

And, somehow, the world began anew.


End file.
